Learning How To Roar
by SecretShowMonster
Summary: First serious story.  An excellent take on what happened where the books took off.  Hermione.GSeverus.S plus i will add Draco.MLuna.L later.  Will contain sexual scenes later.  DOn't be put off by this romantic, heartwarming piece. Give it a whirl!
1. Chapter 1

08AM 12 GRIMMAULD PLACE

Hermione sniffed at the bubbling contents in an unidentified and unlabeled solution sitting precariously alongside what she guessed to be tomato soup. Or an intensified shield and improved sight potion. She stood over the steaming heat of both with and empty bowl in her hand. Biting her lip she decided that it wasn't worth the risk – in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, it was just as likely to be a fresh batch of disillusionment potion as it was to be the evening's dinner. In its half-finished state, there was no way for even the 'brightest witch of her age' to distinguish its trademark 'sawdust' smell.

Perusing the large but cluttered and cramped kitchen, she uncovered a re-wrapped bag of dried cranberries and upon submitting those to the necessary Granger-sniff deemed them edible. Back at the small table which juttered into the first quarter of the kitchen she nursed her hands on the hot sides of this morning's coffee, and tried to resist the dull ache of an oncoming headache.Hermione Granger had expected herself to feel overjoyed, exuberant, and light-as-a-feather after Voldemorts reign had come to an end, but the normally fore-sighted girl had innocently not realised the true implications of the battle between good and evil, in her dreams during the tented nights with Harry and Ron she never really saw any of her friends dying, never really saw that the uncaught death-eaters would continue to resist after their master had been quelled. Back then, Hermione Grangers mind has still been too innocent to realise all the raping and murdering would continue, that six months after He was gone that she'd still be going to funerals of witches and wizards that had been 'too young to die'. That people still were disappearing, and children being imperiused to kill their own parents. The occurrences were fewer than what it was towards the build up of the final confrontation, and herself and the Order were working hard to hunt the evil bastards down, but on this particular windy morning, she'd forgotten not to think of the dead, of the missed, and the missing, and her forgotten coffee splashed slightly when a solitary tear fell into it. She only allowed herself one, and then left to change for the day.


	2. Chapter 2

12NOON HOGWARTSHer stomach growled loudly, and she fervently wished she'd used her 'Gryffindor guts' to try the stovetop brew back at H.Q. She lifted her eyes hopefully for any chance of a sherbet lemon, but let them fall again upon realising that neither Professor McGonagall nor Snape would have personally chosen to continue that particular Dumbledore tradition. Her thoughts about also getting Dobby to nab her something was also quenched by a glance at her watch, although Miss Granger was always typically punctual and early, it was now the expected time for the Orders meeting. Normally which would of taken place at Grimmauld Place had been moved to Hogwarts as the school term was in full swing and, since the majority of the highly ranked (and ministry decorated) members were Hogwarts staff, this was decided a more convenient means to all involved.

Just as Hermione tucked her watch back into her midnight robes, voices were heard on the stairwell, and almost immediately, McGonagall, Harry, Ron and Ginny were visible, closely followed by a slightly out-of-breath Molly Weasely and her husband, Arthur, before Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Neville who seemed to be occupied with something horrid behind him. That 'something horrid' became apparent a moment later, as Severus Tobias Snape stalked stiffly into the room. Hermione quickly snatched her eyes away from him, away from the bandages that still must cover him, before he caught her looking. Six months prior in the Shrieking Shack after letting Harry pelt away to goodness-knows-where Hermione had spelled the only magic which had a chance of saving the great 'old bat' and magically froze his whole body for two whole months, effectively supplying her and Roland Goldcauldren (Britain's only other potions master) the time required to identify and brew the twenty-six different potions required to cure Naginis unique poison. A stroke of luck had helped them on their way – the severed head of Nagini had provided original sample of the venom. Hermione offered a shy wave to the new occupants to the room and was rewarded with hugs from the two other members of the trio, which gave her a moment to drag her mind away from the memories of that cold night. Once settled, Hermione stared determinedly at the patterned carpet on the floor, simply to avoid possible eye-contact with the still-weakened Professor. Hermione still didn't know if he'd really wanted to be saved and survive into the new age.

And she most defiantly didn't know that at that moment her former Professor was staring at her with his oh-so hooked nose, tuning out McGonagalls greetings and inquiries about his health with as much disinterest and sobriety he could muster. He didn't let himself admit it, but Hermione Granger was defiantly a more pleasing subject. Although guilt flushed into his stomach along with mouthfuls of anger as he studied her. She had seen him at his very weakest, he had been completely defenceless and utterly dependant on the bushy-haired girl for his very life, and she had worked so hard to save him. He was humbled too, somewhere deep down, her toiling away for months for a cure for him. Snapes mind rolled back to the young muggle-born he'd watched under his overly hook-nosed instruction through the years as she'd annoyed him, learned from him, practised, and really did somehow end up ensnaring his senses. At that last thought Severus Tobias Snape snapped his eyes away from her, feeling a renewed sense of guilt and frustration. '_How could__i__ think about her that way?'_He still hadn't thanked her. It wasn't a Snape thing to do. That had to be it. Nothing else could make the fearsome potions master quell before her bright eyes, or block all coherent thought or conversation topic when he was in her presence as effectively as if she'd stoppered his very brain. It sounded weak even inside his head. He was the Orders treasured double-spy, with cunning and coy beyond measure, who, thanks to the Granger girl, still had a very long job ahead of him.

The general greetings and 'how are you's' had been distributed across the room, and the atmosphere had subtly slipped into being serious, calling the attentions of all those seated in the room. Minerva McGonagall had crossed to the front of the room just ahead of her desk.

"Right, let's get straight down to it, most of us have classes shortly. Last Wednesday, Fenrir Greyback was sighted by three muggle children around 5PM. Unfortunately after Remus (her voice wavered slightly) left us, we have been finding it harder and harder to keep track of the goings on of the majority of the still resisting werewolves, and i believe it imperative that we put all current efforts into apprehending Greyback. He is loosely regarded as their main leader and will be a rather large blow to them if we succeed. Before i release any other information i need a vote to decide whether you all personally think putting all our efforts, as it were, into one basket to bring him down."

All hands were raised before she even finished speaking, though it was left to Hermione to ask the question hovering in the air.

"Professor, you said Greyback was seen by three children..." She left it hanging, half of her not wanting to know the answer, the other half guilty that she was being so weak.

"Bitten, all three. Two are not likely to survive the attack...the third, might make it." The room went quiet for a number of minutes, before Minerva continued:

"I would like three information-gatherers on this at once, each to be accompanied with three additional 'guards'. Understand that dealing with werewolves is one of the highest dangers for us to face now. If i hear any reports of _anyone_ going off alone they will answer to me and me _directly_." She growled that last sentence, and made many seated in the room instantly relate her to an old mothering lion.

_Bloody overbearing __Gryffindors_Thought the cynic in the room and made to leave

"Oh, and Severus?"

He turned back to the old lion with only a scowl in reply.

"If you are going to aid in this next mission i want it to be thoroughly clear to you that i and many others still regard you as _not_ fit enough to join the guards, but i will be pleased if you were to instead help gather information."He left, aiming his thoughts at the glass of the nearest portrait, which cracked severely and caused it's inhabitant to roar at Severus's retreating back.

_Bloody __Gryffindors_

Hermione looked back up at the newly-safe room, and raised her hand to join the information team then went to repair the broken glass.

_Bloody __Slytherins_


	3. Chapter 3

1 AM THE FOREST OF DEAN

Wolves howled excitedly in the distance and Hermione's haggard breath rattled in her chest, she had been running for the past mile. The sun was still awhile from rising. The lumos spell her want held gave her enough time to jump and dodge the worst of the roots bracken and trunks, the rest she just ploughed straight through, using her momentum to keep her going. She needed to reach the others – and quick.

The evening's investigation had started seemingly well – each team of a main investigator with a team of guards had each chosen a different part of the forest to search, taking marks of potential werewolf inhabitation – things like claw marks on bark, or horribly mauled animal corpses. However, shortly after nightfall the plan had turn _very _awry. Fenrir had staged his little celebrity appearance and in the confusing ever-the-same appearance of the forest her colleagues had quickly become lost, and separate from one another. Hermione had been paired with Hagrid, Fang and Mundungus Fletcher. Mun-bloody-dungus has apparated just as the sun had set and Fang had gotten a fright and went charging through the rough underbrush, Hagrid following, calling loudly into the twilight. Hermione had ran with him, but his hugely longer legs had propelled him far away from her in a short amount of time, and her calls to tell him to slow down had fallen on deaf ears in his blind panic to recover his beloved hound.

Quickly assessing the situation, it was clear to her that they'd been set up. Her only option now was to locate the others, find Hagrid and do so very, very quietly. Slowing her pace down to a walk, she'd then lit her lumos. Her brain still arguing between the necessity of having to see her next steps opposing the obvious attention the light would bring to her and defiantly make her a lot easier to spot. Unsettlingly enough she also realised that a werewolf's sense of smell was on of their best assets, so quickly uttering a simple charm to disguise her as a particularly smelly pine tree, she added in another mutter "_point me"_to her wand. Her group being the southernmost she headed directly north, desperately hoping the others hadn't come to any harm.

She'd wandered for what felt like hours, and upon reflection, indeed was. It was hard to gain much ground quickly in this place however, crawling, pushing, climbing and going around bramble bushes, knotted roots and twisted trunks that seemed endless. Frequently she'd stop, use her compass spell again only to find that she was now heading east, instead of north. In frustration she stamped her foot, and after the extra sound she heard a low growl nearby.

_'Granger, you absolute twat, now you've just attracted on of them!' _In an instant she'd nox'ed her wand, and slid herself stealthily beneath what she presumed was a gnarled old oak. Now keeping as absolutely still as she could, she felt rather than saw the thing that had moved to stand where she was only moments ago. But my, could she smell it. Rank. Rotting. Flesh.

_'Don't vomit, don't vomit, don't vomit, __don't__vomit' _she ordered herself. Sensing the werewolf looking around, hearing him paw the ground and sniffing the air, great, lungfuls of air. Hermione wordlessly fortified her pine-smell charm, and waited. Then away in the distance came a harrowing howl. Hermione couldn't tell if it was human or werewolf at this distance, and that chilled her to the very bones. The half-human in front of her instantly bounded off towards the howl, frighteningly fast.

Hermione waited a few more minutes before following. As she pushed herself through yet another tangled mess of branches there came a whoosh of light at her side. Her knees almost giving way in fear, she luckily recognised the light. A silver Jack-Russell Terrier – Ron's patronus. It began speaking to here as soon as it had leapt onto a fallen log in front of her, Ron's voice coming out in a barely audible whisper.

"Hermy, I hope you're alright. It's a set-up, we've been attacked. No-one hurt yet, we're holed up in a cave right around where we started. I haven't yet had word from group 1. Head this way if you can."

Feelings of relief and increased anxiety wove into Hermione at Ron's words. Upon the terrier vanishing, Hermione was in an internal struggle.

_'Severus is in group one! Along with Dean and Bill! Should I send word? Don't be daft, that might give away their position! But what if they don't have a position? They're __smart;__ they'__ll have figured__ something out. But what if-__' _She silenced herself by biting down on her lower lip. Hard. That brought her straight back to her senses. _'I've got to head to where Ron's group __is;__ from there at least __I__ can gather what's happening.'_It took the quick-thinking witch another hour to reach where Ron said they must be – she could hear shouting of spells and once more could sense movement in the forest. Concentrating hard she used a disillusionment charm on herself, making her fade slightly – it wasn't much, and she wasn't practised at it. But it would help. Sending her partonus ahead to warn the others of her arrival she decided to shield herself and make a straight run for the opening of the cave which she could see multiple wands firing spells out from. This was the best thing for it – no other way would give her the same percentage of success, she'd have to wing her safety on surprise, and two simple charms. The 20 metre sprint had felt like 20 years. And there was certainly no way she'd forget the sounds of the snarls from the wolves as they'd realised she was slipping right past them. Nearing the cave, time seemed to speed up again until it seemed like she'd burst into the caves mouth in a millisecond, running straight into George.

In the next second Hermione had taken charge of the situation and demanded from the boys if any word had come from the last team. A scream answered her. Turning her nausea in anger she flung her own wand out the mouth of the cave and began cursing, hexing anything that moved. She hadn't recognised the voice, but she couldn't lose another friend. Not now.

In ten minutes the werewolves had broken their attacking formation, half of their numbers stunned, or dead. Another scream and a yell from the west, and that was when Hermione Granger started running. Pulled through the bushes like the pained yelling was an earth magnet, her thoughts scrambling on a mane of blood-stricken black hair, a broken cold body in billowing black robes, and knew she had to run faster.


	4. Chapter 4

-Hello! Nice to see you reading my stuff. Thanks. If you have any particular ideas/fantasies that you want seen in here, the plot isn't set in stone and i enjoy hearing your thoughts. -

4AM THE FOREST OF DEAN, NORTHMOST TIPHermione could see commotion ahead of her in the next clearing, saw a glimpse of silver-blond hair. Draco Malfoy dodging the speed-blurred clawed paw of-

'_Fenrir__!'_Hermione could see that Draco was unarmed, and all that stood between him and injury was his Quiddich reflexes. It was only a matter of time before he tired. She redoubled her efforts to push through to them, feeling the brambles clawing at her. Knowing that Fenrirs claws would be a thousand times worse.

Finally she was free.

"STUPEFY!" She flung her curse straight at Fenrir, and it caught him just under his ribcage, flinging him backwards and stunning him for a few seconds, during which Malfoy threw himself on his hands and knees, desperately searching for his wand. Hermione cried

"Accio wand" and threw it into the blonds direction just as the massive werewolf coiled himself like a spring, and leapt –teeth first- straight for Hermione.

Two voices bellowed "STUPEFY" while a third also joined, a lot fainter. All three cast spells hit their target, knocking out the beast and blasting him just short of Hermione's feet with a cracking thud. Looking wildly around her for the source of the third voice, she saw that he emerged slowly, with a definite limp and leaned heavily on a twisted trunk for support. His robes were torn and there was a trickle of blood oozing down from his forehead. But he was standing. From the way his eyebrows lifted slightly she realised she was staring, and quickly busied herself casting bonds to keep the werewolf still when he woke up. She blessed the darkness from the night that was sufficient in hiding the blush that had crept up her face. The black haired man had indeed not noticed. The blond, however, certainly did.

But he was a Slytherin, and knowing it would be tactless to mention anything at the current time, bit his tongue and swallowed the question at his lips. But his curiosity did not shrink one iota.

LATER THAT MORNING, HOGWARTS

The atmosphere in the headmistresses' office was decidedly different from yesterday. Everyone was quiet, all those present at last nights disaster were nursing wounds, luckily they all seemed to be fickle.

"Well, at least it wasn't a complete shambles; you did manage to catch Greyback." Came Minerva icily. Her anger came simply from worry, and it had the effect of warming the hearts of those around her. They quickly debriefed, and since most members inside that room had not seen sleep that previous night, nor had edible sustenance for a time, adjourned with a few mutual grunts of exhaustion as they got up and turned to leave. Luckily in the castle were a few scattered guest rooms, and Hermione and most of the others had decided to stay and sleep off their exhaustion in the comfortable beds, rather than risk splinching themselves through lack of concentration apparating their way back home. And that was AFTER the long walk into Hogsmeade in order to simply be able to apparate.

As Hermione was making way down through the various corridors, she noticed Draco Malfoy ahead of the group, pointedly telling people which rooms were 'theres'. Never one to discourage the ex-pre-Death Eater from trying to fit into the Orders 'group' she decided to just let him be, and waited her turn. Eventually it was just the two of them left.

"Woh, damn. I almost forgot about you, Hermione!" His voice was overly-cheerful. Hermione gave him a pointed look through her tiredness. He stalled slightly before seemingly making up his mind.

"Ahh well, unfortunately, the only guess room left is argh...down in the dungeons. By the way i haven't thanked you yet for your assistance before, i do so now. You came just in time." At this, Hermione could feel a scowl coming on. She knew that Snape would have to be down there by now, wherever his particular quarters were she'd bet to have the luck to find that they'd be right next to 'the only guest room left'. She still didn't want to face him just yet. Especially after his help in the forest. Looking at Draco to stall for time, she found him curiously staring at her, quickly changing his face to a blank disposition when her glance touched him. _'Bugger __him,__i__ can't admit to him that __i__ don't want to sleep in the dungeons, how childlike would –that- look?__ Then he'd probably want to know why, __i__ don't even know myself let alone what to possibly say to the snarky __S__lytherin__' _ Hermione took a steadying sigh, and tottered off to the dungeons, without another look at a now smugly smiling Draco. If his suspicions were correct, a little meddling was in order.

Hermione awoke to the sounds of students rushing past the door heading to class, or, to the rumbling of her stomach. She sat up quickly, half forgetting where she was, and for the first time since she'd entered the room, took stock of her surroundings. Unlike yesterday, where the only important thing she found was her bed, she noticed that although it had a complete absence of windows due to its location, it had beautiful warm coloured quilts that hung from the high ceiling, to the ground in the middle of every wall. This offered a pleasant relief to the eye after so much bare stone. There wasn't much else that adorned the room, except the simple-made bed (in Slytherin colours) and a wooden bedside table, directly to her right. A singular, cushioned chair stood lonely in the opposite corner to the bed, and the bathroom was through a door at the end of her bed. It was to there that she got out of the bed and shuffled to. Finding Dobby inside stocking up the sink and shower with soaps and shampoos for her.

"Dobby! Hello!"The house elf turned and bowed low, squeaking an excited greeting back at her, and apologizing profusely that the guestrooms were not always kept perfectly ready-for-use. It always pulled at Hermione's heart-strings to see elf's look so stricken over such a trivial matter, but the shower was calling her name ever-so-sensually. She hadn't bothered for one the night/early morning before, and was still quite grimy. Shortly after Dobby left she stripped herself of her night clothes and tapped the shower head lightly with her wand. The water streamed out, immediately at the perfect temperature she so adored. Slowly scrubbing, she took stock of herself, Episky'ing away the scratches on her extremities, shampooing and conditioning her soaked hair and then pulling her fingers through it to sort out the worst of the knots. She stayed in the shower for a long time, letting the traumatic events slowly wash from her mind and body. She stayed till a rather unladylike growl issued from her stomach, and she smiled softly, thinking of how much a Ron thing it was to do. They were both so close before the final end of the war, and their feelings about each other were mutual, she knew. Holding on tightly to his lanky figured as they sped from the Room of Requirement had made them both in a moment of adrenaline confess to each other, but after the death of Fred the Weasleys' had shut themselves in their house. It wasn't until Fred's funeral that she had the next chance to see him; He was abashed and avoided her and since then, she had not seen hide nor hair of him till only a few short months ago. He hadn't changed in any real manner of speaking, and was certainly the old Ron that everyone knew; But Hermione was hurt that in his time of need he hadn't sought her comfort or advice, or had even owled or allowed her to visit. It seemed to her that their relationship had ended before it had even really started.

She was out of the shower now, and halfway through getting dressed automatically when her stomach once again announced it's need to be refuelled. Giggling to herself she left the room fully dressed and headed to the Great Hall.


End file.
